


a chair of an empty space

by abeyance



Series: glass seat homes [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Peter has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeyance/pseuds/abeyance
Summary: **DO NOT NEED TO READ 1ST PART IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND, ALTHOUGH IT IS RECOMMENDED**(the aftermath of homecoming and the infinity war and how their relationship is affected by both events)THEN: he couldn’t imagine a better time than what he was living. Between saving Queens and having people to talk to about his secret, peter could not be happier. Confused, maybe, especially when a bond, unlike anything he’s had before starts to form between him and MJ, still nothing but the mysterious girl that sits on rooftops with him to study. But thats exactly what he will figure out; even their connection will be stronger than previously imagined.NOW: The aftermath of being fifteen and returning from Infinity War was not what Peter expected;  especially when michelle, some he had thought was a friend, suddenly distances herself from him. Back to stage one they may be thrown, but peter becomes determined why that may be. The answer is not what he would’ve thought, despite it being right in front of him.





	1. routine gone haywire

**Author's Note:**

> ATTENTION NEW READERS: if you had not seen the disclaimer in the summary, please know that this can be read as a stand alone, but in order to get the full story and the style I write these characters in, reading the first book may be recommended. it's a pretty quick read if you are interested.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: There is light swearing in this chapter, but more for humor than anything. nevertheless, beware.

  
  
  
  


**_Then._**

__

__

“Who introduced the theory of punctuated equilibrium?” The question carried into Peter’s ears from behind him, where MJ and Ned sat along the wall of the rooftop stairs. Peter looked out into the city through his mask’s eyes, as if it had the answer laid between the walls of the buildings. _ “Punctuated equilibrium, the theory that species are generally stable, changing little for millions of years was proposed by Stephen Jay Gould and Niles Eldredge in response to Charles Darwin’s previous theory.”  _ As Karen’s robotic voice answered the question in Peter's ear piece, he took a second too long to state his answer.

__

“And no using your android friend, Parker,” MJ commented from behind the textbook. Peter huffed.

__

“Karen, enter Sleep Mode.” He could practically hear Michelle's eyes rolling. Though he did hear the sound of the textbook pages turning as she looked for another question.

__

This was their new strategy. Ever since MJ had discovered the big secret, Peter had concluded using it as an advantage rather than a burden. As he swung around the city, she and Ned would throw questions through the d-comms that they were given via Mr. Stark. It made up for both the Decathlon meetings he had missed because of the ‘internship’ and hours he took patrolling rather than studying. It was a benefit for both sides as well, which was a plus.

__

However, some nights didn't have as many actions as others, where in which he'd stay on the rooftop with his study mates as the city was scanned from the edge. Tonight counted of which.

__

“What is meant by the phrase ‘turn genes on’ or ‘turn genes off ‘?” Michelle drawled out in the most monotone voice. By the time of the night they were at, she usually would get antsy. Peter couldn't blame her; stuck testing kids who were either boasting about comics or swinging around the city about things you already knew was probably not the best treat. Especially when he realized the new book series she started earlier that week that she surely would want to continue.

__

Ned, who's been working on improving their distance limitation of the d-comms, spoke up. “Hox genes determine whether specific genes are expressed in a particular place and time.” Peter looked back just in time to see MJ solemnly nod her head and start scanning the page for the next.

__

“We can stop if you want.” He suggested. Michelle didn't move her eyes from the pages, but one leg lazily slid to be straight in front of her.

__

“We just started,” She replied. “What kind of allele doesn't usually change the length of a chromosome?”

__

He ignored it, although heard a mumbled answer from Ned. “Because we were working on our projects.” She sighed and looked at him. “It's only fifteen minutes from when we usually stop, anyway.”

__

“As captain of the team I am starting to question your commitment to the group, Spandex.” Despite her comment, MJ closed the textbook and stood up. She stretched her arms above her head as Peter rose from his crouch at the rim of his apartment building.

__

“Better look into it, then.” He pulled off his mask and grabbed his backpack, pulling out sweatpants and a shirt to cover his suit. Ned had already started to collect his tools around him.

__

“I assure you I will.” MJ slipped the textbook into her messenger bag, replacing it with her latest read. The three of them started to the stairs that headed inside.

__

When they walked into Peter’s apartment, his aunt had a small assortment of cookies and popcorn on the counter ready for them. As their new routine progressed, she slipped in her contribution of providing snacks for the period they spent waiting for their parents to arrive for pick up. Michelle never stayed for longer than two cookies, though. She had always said she had a bike, and they just learned to roll with it. 

__

Ned, however, did not have a bike and instead hung out with Peter in his room until his dad showed.

__

Oh, and another thing; Michelle had  _ never _ stepped foot in Peter’s room. 

__

It wasn’t that he didn’t allow her to. In fact, when the chilly nights came(which was getting more and more regular) he suggested it. His room didn’t have a fire escape, but between the unusually wide ledge and his sticking abilities, it would work just fine as a perspective point. But she just walked to his living room, sat down, and started studying there. With an exchanged look from Ned, Peter headed over to the room’s window and followed her. 

__

“Well, I'm gonna head out,” MJ stated, glancing at her phone. In the kitchen, may was only putting the cookies in the oven.

__

Peter looked at her questionably as he tossed his backpack on the couch. “You sure? It's still early.” 

__

“Well if I wasn’t,” She looked at him as her phone was tucked into her pocket. “I wouldn’t be leaving. Anyway, I wanna take the long way without my parents questioning my actions.”

__

He looked at her for a second. “Okay, well, just be... yanno -”

__

“Careful.” she nodded with a cocky smirk. “I know.” she gave May her closed-mouth smile as she walked to the door. “I don’t take your rooftop hospitality as granted, May.”

__

“As always, sweetie,” May responded, glancing over her shoulder. The door shut with a quiet click. 

__

“She's so weird sometimes,” Ned commented from the couch. When Peter turned around to face him, he was focused on the title screen of the TV schedules as he flipped through channels.

__

“In a good way, though,” Peter’s aunt said from the kitchen. He started down the hall to change out of his suit. “She says things that everyone wants to. Very outspoken at such a young age. Some people in my past would say that it's a bad thing to be that way, but now, I just realize they were threatened of what those people may become.”

__

He fell asleep to that thought that night, staring at his empty desk chair occupied with nothing other than his suit. Thinking of how many opportunities he may assign himself in that very seat. He wondered if MJ had a chair like that in her room. Where she could sit and be her forthright self and get something out of it.

__

__

**_Now._ **

__

__

He couldn’t move much.

__

__

Back when he had just turned twelve, Peter had asked for a gym membership for his birthday. Aunt May and Uncle Ben got him two six pound dumbbells and a yoga mat.

__

At first, Peter was annoyed. Dumbbells were not going to give him abs. And when he told Aunt May that, she had simply told him to work it out.

__

But he  _ couldn’t _ . He didn't even search for other options. So what he had decided was the most persuading way of saying how it wasn't going to do anything, which was by using them.

__

Peter didn’t bother to search for different, effective exercises when he started. He sat in his desk chair and did bicep curls for a half hour straight, despite the numbness. The only that stopped him was his aunt calling that dinner was ready.

__

Five minutes into dinner, his chin was practically in his food because his arms squeezed too much when he went to bring the fork to his mouth. He kept his eyes on his food, ignoring the knowing glances that shot past him both ways.

__

He woke up the next day and tried to pretend he was sick.lifting his shoulder even a slight would send this strain to his arms that he practically heard screaming. When he had gotten home, even looking at those dumbbells make him want to throw them against the metal frame of his bed, although it was physically impossible in his state. Instead, he rolled out the yoga mat and placed one bell on his stomach before starting a crunches-session that went until he had to roll to stand.

__

The following day the strain in his arms was a little more tolerable but nowhere near bearable. His stomach, his abdominals, well, bending down was no treat.

__

But he still wanted to show his guardians the gifts weren't good for him. That night, he duct-taped both to his shins and did exactly 86.3 leg lifts. 

__

That next morning, Peter had finally noticed what soreness throughout his body, maybe including finger tips, felt like.

__

__

Like he definitely did now.

__

But this time, just the slightest unbalanced weight to the left and it felt like a monstrous muscle knot beneath his skin, even his (previously very comfortable) mattress not giving the bruise mercy.

__

War was tough. Like, literally, if it was a person, it'd be Hulk. and Thanos. Their love child, maybe.

__

_ Thanos _ .

__

Damn, even the name just makes him want to jump, to fight, to  _ kill _ . But he couldn't move. Hence the reason why he’s been sucking his bottom lip to stop the bleeding caused by being gnawed at.

__

Fortunately, in thanks to, well, almost dying in order to help the team, Tony supplied him and May with a full set of Stark Appliances when he decided to stay in Queens as opposed to the headquarters until he graduated. So with Peter was a droid, new laptop, phone, watch, oven, dishwasher… it was all surreal, actually. But it was enough to keep him busy, despite his ass being numb.

__

He was scrolling through the newest news articles when an alert popped in the corner of his screen;

__

__

**NEW MESSAGE FROM: MICHELLE JONES**

__

**APPROVE MESSAGING REQUEST?**

__

**[ACCEPT]** **[DECLINE]**

__

__

Noting to transfer all of his contacts into the new laptop, he selected the accept option.

__

__

**_Hey, web slinger, its mj. I’m outside. Mind ringing me in? New York really needs to get this spring weather on, plus i have things that mind being eaten warm._ **

__

__

“May!” Peter called out, hoping she could hear him through the walls. “Can you ring M in?” his ears were met by some sound of the droid, one of which he had not recognized yet. A voice boomed into the room from the inter-comm. 

__

__

“ _ Aunt May has seemingly left the Parker residence approximately Seven Minutes and Forty-One seconds ago. Taken from the inventory, assumptions of where about's come to eighty-three percent likely Aunt May will be arriving at a food market within the next two minutes. Footage complies that you had been unconscious at her departure, otherwise it would be ninety-six percent likely you would have been updated by her personally. Would you like me to send a message that you have awoken?” _

__

__

“No, no, that’s alright. Can you ring in Michelle Jones, please?” It was weird, talking into open space like that. Back when he first met Karen her voice was within his suit, so it felt more personal. But he overall just felt awkward speaking to the assistant-droid. “And unlock the door.”

__

It wasn't long before he heard a knock. “Parker?” A muffled voice called. 

__

“It's open!” Following his answer was the soft clicking of the apartment's door as it opened and closed. 

__

“I’m leaving some cookies I got on the counter." The sound of something being placed on a surface ensuring the statement. “Where are you, anyway -” Michelle appeared in the doorway of his room, a pile of books occupying her hands. The face he saw was new yet unfamiliar; her lazy eyes, gaping mouth, but the tension across her features - for the first time, Peter realized Michelle felt pity. 

__

“Idiot,” She breathed. “You are such an  _ idiot.” _ Her mouth closed, the tension spreading around her face, and Peter flinched as she stalked over to him, fully expecting a knock-out punch. Instead, she hesitated a step before his bed, looked at his empty desk, and dropped the books down with more force than necessary. Michelle turned back to her stance over his bed. “What, did you have to  _ prove _ something?” The thought of her feeling any sort of empathy seconds earlier ran from Peter's mind. 

__

He couldn't answer. He didn't know  _ what  _ to answer. All he could do was stare up at her through hooded, bruised eyes and a trembling throat.

__

His eyes followed her as she crouched down, her eyes almost even with his now. 

__

His eyes stayed watching her as they flicked down his form of ice packs and wrapping and unhealed self, thanks to Thanos’ unique abilities. Her gaze focused on his own. Something was different about her iris color. The glaze that always seemed to gleam had disappeared, making them be as if darker than default.

__

And then he watched her stand from her crouch, the inside of her lip tucked in, as MJ backed up a few steps. She gestured to the pile of the books she had placed on the table. “The work you missed is all there. Warren sent you an email with video tutorials.” She lingered for barely more than a second before turning away. He didn't say anything as her footsteps echoed through the apartment.

__

_ “Attention, Peter. Aunt May has returned to your residence. Based on reports, her reason for premature return is sixty-four percent likely associated with traffic.”  _ On cue, the door opened.

__

“Oh, It’s nice to see you again, MJ -” 

__

“ _ Company identified as Michelle Jones has left the Parker residence.” _

__

Aunt May was at Peter’s door in less than a second.

__

“What just happened there?” She gestured to behind her. His eyes remained on the books upon his desk. The realization dawned on him, and another scar started to form. 

__

“I shattered it,” Peter whispered. After a moment May sighed and closed the door gently. Peter's eyes fell from the books to his desk chair, where his iron suit was folded. Well, was at least attempted. The iron was dented, the soft materials frayed. Most of the seams had been torn during the final battle, resulting in the look of a really bad mess up of an origami structure.

__

Tony said he’d want to have it. Even if it brought bad memories, keeping it would give a sense of pride that's needed, no matter how small. 

__

Hell of a place to keep it; the very place he took the opportunity, so excited to work with the Avengers once again.

__

Now, his own self stared back at him; his second life, his other identity, looking at him, taunting him -

__

Whether or not he liked that other self, Peter had no clue.

__

__

**_Then_ ** **.**

__

__

The next morning, Peter had felt a little bit more refreshed. He didn’t have to do much last night; there wasn’t anything he’d seen from the rooftop. Peter's muscles were relieved to the news of this, but half his brain was twitching for some action.

__

In every class he had with her, MJ was reading. It wasn't a big surprise, she always was, but the tendency to just  _ talk  _ poked his tongue every free minute. Not knowing what to talk about, necessarily, second block Peter asked her what book she’d been reading. MJ simply held up the cover long enough for him to read  _ If There Be Thorns  _ before placing it back on the table.

__

He saw it as an improvement, though. In the beginning of the year, she wouldn't acknowledge him more than the time it took for him to  _ ‘Shh _ ’ him.

__

Come lunch, MJ had moved from her end of the table to him and Ned’s end the Tuesday after Homecoming. Sure, maybe she didn’t take part in most of their conversations about new chemical recipes for stronger web, but she sat with them.

__

Peter opened his backpack for his money for a drink when he saw the zip lock bag that usually wasn't there. Pulling it out, he saw it held two cookies with May’s handwriting scribed across the front.

__

**_MJ:_ **

__

**_You forgot something at our apartment yesterday!_ **

__

**_-May_ **

__

Peter fought his smile as he handed Michelle the bag, who at first looked annoyed for the interruption, but her eyes softened once noticing the bag in front of her. He took MJ’s smirk as a  _ thank you _ , since he had yet to her those words from her yet. 

__

__

**_Now._ **

__

__

_ Thank  _ God, Michelle repeated to herself.

__

__

He was  _ not _ dead. Sure, more bruised than summer camp of 2012, but  _ not dead _ .

__

She thanked God for that. 

__

Well, now that that part was over with -

__

Stupid, stupid, dumbass  _ twatwaffle _ .

__

In conclusion, that was what Peter Benjamin Parker was; along with being a shitstain on a slutbag, he was a stupid, stupid, dumbass twatwaffle.

__

MJ’s knuckles gripped the hem of her sweater as she bit her lips, desperately trying to keep from shaking more than they both already were. She wasn't one to cry. She  _ never _ cried.

__

Closing the complex’s door behind her, she pressed her back against the brick wall, welcoming the dull pinch of the jagged textures. MJ tipped her head back, looking at the stars above, as one single tear escaped her right eye’s rim. Her teeth let go of her bottom lip. 

__

Michelle's vision blurred, her hair got sticky, her lips became wet and trembled embarrassingly. She was sure she was about to drool.

__

_ No. stop it. Don't cry over stupid, stupid, dumbass twatwaffles. Or shit stains on slutbags. Their name is rewarded to them for a reason.  _ You _ rewarded them for a reason. _

__

And then chaos ensued, and her chest heaved, and MJ sobbed.

__


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my absensce. but it return, here is a chapter consisting of exactly 10,236 words. youre welcome.

**_Then._ **

 

On November 17th, Queens had its first snow of the year. 

 

May was surprised by this. Usually, it would be until after the first day of December. And to be fair, Peter shared the same reaction when he looked out the window to see the buildings blanketed.

 

Unfortunately, being in the Tri-State area came with the usual occurrence of snow, meaning that a snow day was highly unlikely with what amount they had gotten. All the five inches was going to bring was more people on the train to school. AKA, nothing but unpleasantness. May told Peter to get on the earlier train instead. And so he left with his jacket and beanie and backpack to the 7:40 train.

 

On mornings like this, Peter was used to seeing new faces. Of course, most were snob business people who’re missing out on their daily exercise of walking to work, but nothing like who he saw when he walked onto his train.

 

Somehow, MJ had gotten a seat and was sitting behind her book on the opposite side of where he walked in. she had a slightly heavier jacket on with gloves that had its fingers cut, which were holding coffee in an open mug.

 

Peter pushed his way through the crowd of people in attempt to get to her in confusion. He grabbed the hand-pole closest to her just in time before the train started to move. She ignored him, more engrossed with the book in her lap. 

 

“Hey, uh,” this got her attention. But, of course, in the  _ you just wrote your name on my death list _ attention. MJ peered up at him through her eyelashes and furrowed her eyebrow. And, in Peter's surprise, closed the book. “You take the train?”

 

“And since when does Spidey take transportation?” her comment triggered his sudden instinct to glance around to see if anyone may of overheard. The rustling of most getting settled appeared to have drone it out, though.

 

_ “Careful of what you say, _ ” he gritted.

 

“Well then freaking you out wouldn’t be so amusing.” he rolled his eyes. “So I'm  going to ask you  _ one more time.” _ before she could go on, Peter answered her.

 

“I’m taking the early bus because of the weather. Other days, I'm  just too lazy to walk all that way.”

 

“You mean ‘swing’?” Peter glared at MJ’s reference, earning her smirk of a smile in return.

 

“Believe it or not, I can be an  _ actual kid _ if I try.”

 

“Good to know.” MJ took that as a note open her book back up.

 

“So why are you here?”

 

“What?”

 

“Yanno, on the train. I've never seen you on the train.”

 

“That's because I take this train.”

 

“You take the seven-forty train everyday?”

 

“Yeah, why not?”

 

“Because its early.”

 

“They serve free bagels before eight in the lunchroom. And I like to watch the not-so-early-bird people walk in very early for extra help and detention. Really, you should try it sometime. It gives you a good start to the day knowing you didn't have shit to do earlier than everyone else.”

 

“By watching them?”

 

“And sketching, if they walk slow enough.”

 

“Yeah, thanks, but considering my month’s long after school detentions had only just ended last week, I’ll pass.”

 

“Whatever you say.” this time when she turned back to her book, Peter let her. He stared out the window above her head, each of the million snowflakes fluttering down. At the rate of the train, they appear to be frozen. Each unique pattern, frozen in time, due to another being so fast.

 

Notwithstanding the weather, their train arrived at their spot around the same time it regularly would. People pushed against each other reluctantly but eager to get out into the cold for work. Peter stayed where he's was on his pole in front of MJ. He watched her put the book she was reading in her bag and make sure it would be covered from the snow still fluttering down. People brushed past behind Peter harsh enough to leave the statement of  _ move, kid. People are trying to exit, _ which usually irked him with the impatience of others. But looking at MJ, watching her take her time, enough to annoy everyone around her and the fact that she wasn't bothered with it, well, it made Peter smile at the rudeness. Her ignorance of it.

 

She gave him a confused look as she stood, but allowed him to follow her out of the train anyway.

 

He caught up to walk beside her not a moment after they started their few blocks until the school. Nothing was spoken, only the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet and the occasional puff of breath filling the silent aura. He couldn't help but glance a few times. The contrast of her dark hair and complexion and the flecks of white clingings onto to strands screamed for a photo. But that would be creepy, he reminded himself. Even if the returned glances may have not been imaginary.

 

Arriving at the school as early as they eventually did was a first for Peter. It was weird seeing the courtyard empty despite the morning sky. Nevertheless, he followed MJ like nothing was new. 

 

They were in the hallway of the cafeteria when she spoke. “You have your student ID?” Michelle stopped walking and turned to him.

 

His hands unconsciously went to his side pocket of his backpack, where his wallet was. “Uh, yeah, I should. Do I - do we need it?”

 

MJ was taking the back of her phone case off when he looked at her. She took what appeared to be her ID and replaced it. “Apparently, it qualifies you as a student for your bagel. Even if you are know from being in the smartest group in the school, fame doesn't confirm free baked goods.” Despite the sarcasm, Peter couldn't tell if the hint of annoyance in her tone was intentional. Something told him this ID-for-a-bagel situation didn't sit well with MJ.

 

She tucked her phone in her pocket as they started down the hall again.

 

“What's your favorite season?” her eyes were focused on his fumbling with his backpack when he looked her. Her eyebrows were set it their default furrowed state.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Yanno.” she shrugged. “Winter, Spring, summer, autumn. What do you like?” although he never really took it into consideration, Peter immediately thought about the empty days where he could just swing around the neighborhood.

 

“Summer, I think.”

 

“Typical.” before he could contradict, they were standing in front of a lunch table lined with bagels. The room was empty besides them, a few teachers, the lunch lady, and two kids slumped in different corners. Michelle grabbed a bagel coated in sesame seeds from the middle, split it, and started to lather each side with healthy amounts of cream cheese. Peter looked at her before repeating, only a little more shyly. And probably a little more uncomfortable, too, since he was nowhere near irresistible to the looks the lunch lady was giving them as MJ was. She flashed her ID and gave him an impatient nod to do the same.

 

“What's yours?”

 

“You need to read a book about conversation starters if you think bagel flavors would be a good topic to initiate with.”

 

“I mean seasons, know it all.” it was until they walked out of the lunchroom, passed about fifty lockers, and five seconds before Peter would die of embarrassment before MJ answered.

 

“Fall.”

 

He was planning on her to elaborate, but he just nodded his head. She  turned to walk to the lockers, probably to sit. Once again, Peter followed. But before he sat down, Michelle made a soft clang as her back hit the locker, making him look at her. She didn't look back.

 

“Yeah,” she nodded, like she approved with her own opinion. “I like autumn.” she slid down to sit. Peter followed. MJ looked at him. “Aren't you going to ask me why?”

 

“Why would i? You didn't ask me.” MJ smirked.

 

“Because I know why you like summer, Spandex.” although she went back at the secret again, this time Peter smiled at the mention. 

 

“Okay, then.” he looked at her, both their bagels forgotten on their laps. Or in Michelle's case, balanced on her knees. “Why is autumn your favorite season, MJ?”

 

She looked forward, her lips’ corners still lifted slightly.

 

“A lot of reasons. But overall, it's unexpected. Like all the seasons in one. You don't know what the weather will be. Or how people decided to change over the summer. Or watching them think that they changed, but their past self slowly digs at it. And you can dress in sweat pants or a skirt, and no one would care. Because who knows how that temperature will change throughout. And the colors.” she nodded to herself. “The colors are always a plus.” MJ’s eyes fell to her bagel and cream cheese. She took a bite and turned to Peter, who was looking at her dumbfoundedly. She stuck her chin to his bagel. “I know. I just turned your whole view of seasons around. Eat your bagel before the detention kids start walking through.”

 

Obeying her, Peter took a bite of his bagel and let the taste settle in his mouth. Michelle noticed his eyebrows rise.

 

“There's so little kids who know about it that they get their breakfast stuff from the best coffee place in Queens.” it appeared so. The bagel he just tasted bumped every other kind off the podium. Peter took another bite. 

 

“Remind me again, what exactly do you come here for?” Peter asked. “Besides the discounted breakfast, of course.” instead of responding, Michelle put her plate with her bagel between them and started shuffling through her bag. He watched as she pulled out a spiral sketchbook. MJ checked the time by looking at the hallways clock above Peter's head before pulling out a pencil from the spine.

 

“The best of times to draw someone is when they are the most vulnerable.” she started flipping through, searching for an empty page. He was able to glance at the used ones passing by, doodles varying in detail, story, and expression. “The best time to find vulnerable people is in the morning, when they aren’t snapped into their for-show personality yet.” the sketchbook was now leaned on her thighs. She swept her hand over the empty sheet.

 

“Do you do this every morning?” it took her a second more than normal to respond; MJs eyes kept on the tiles beyond to horizon of her knees, almost like she had to recall her schedule.

 

“Not every morning.” MJ breathed as she looked down. “But the select few where I do is the majority.”

 

“So I'm  guessing you're planning on some art school. Maybe Antonelli, I heard about that from a presentation last year.”

 

In response, Michelle chuckled to herself. It made Peter more confused than anything, and he didn't hide it. “Trust me, I did too. But this here is closest I'm  getting.” a conversation Peter overheard once raced to his mind. Aunt May’s one request to Mr. Stark after learning about his crime-fighting side was that Peter would go to college. And that Mr. Stark would help her with the expenses. (after Peter helped Tony one day in the lab at the Stark tower, Aunt May suddenly felt less stressed than before.)

 

“Ah, yeah, that always sucks. The expenses these days are nuts.” Michelle chuckled again.

 

“Oh no, we can afford college. Twice over. As long as it's not  _ art _ school, we can afford it.” 

 

“That sucks even more. The thought of not being able to choose your future because of expec -” Peter’s sentenced died as he glanced at her. Unlike before, MJ’s focus was no longer on the hallway tiles. Rather, they were on her page, not so blank anymore as lines escaped from her pencil’s tip. Only then did his ears register the echo of footfalls - shuffles, really, sweeping down the hall. His head perked up to look around and find a lowerclassmen slouching down the hall, no doubt to some before-school-discipline-holding. His right lip corner raised a bit by the melancholy expression waxed to the kids face. It made him unable to identify if this was a first time thing for the freshman or not.

 

When Peter turned back to MJ, he couldn't help but watch her sketch. Peter leaned in a tiny bit, getting close enough to talk lowly for only her to hear.

 

“Is this a new one?” although she had just looked at the kid a second before, Michelle looked up again. She made a face of disagreement and turned back to her lines. 

 

“No, this is the second time I've seen him. But it's not only his second. The last time I saw him he was still looking somewhat presentable, meaning he has gotten used to waking up earlier. Last time was probably his first taking a different route to Durham's room.” she looked at him when she sensed his surprised expression. “She’s the only freshman teacher that doesn't allow backpacks in her detentions. And he's probably realized this route is a hallway closer to the entrance than the other two, meaning he doesn't have to walk so much.” during her observation he had forgotten to watch her draw but rather looked at her instead. Something was amazing about watching MJ multi-task with little to no effort for each actual task. When he found his eyes back on the paper, a sloppy but accurate representation of the kid who just passed them was strewn along the surface. Peter got a little annoyed at himself for not watching every swipe be taken.

 

She caught him looking at it. As soon as Peter felt MJ’s eyes on his focused ones, he peeled his focus to her. 

 

It was an awkward second-too-long if he was honest, but MJ interrupted their accidental staring contest. “D’you wanna try?” his eyes widened slightly without him being able to stop it. To what? Give her a  _ physical _ copy of reasons to tease him? 

 

“Nah, no.” he forced a laugh. “I’m good.” she shrugged and turned back to her book, flipping to the next blank page.

 

Soon enough, another kid rounded the corner. This time it was an upperclassman, probably a junior. This time, Peter didn’t ask questions. This time, Peter watched the girl-beside-him hand scribble up a portrait.

 

It repeated two more times. Throughout the breaks he’d finished his bagel. MJ finished half and drew out an empty ziploc from her bag to put the remaining in. now he knew where her spontaneous lunch meals came from.

 

After the fourth sketch he watched be formed, his head followed Michelles as she checked the time. She folded her book back so the covers were back protecting the inside works. MJ replaced it in her bag and exchanged it with her book she was previously reading. As he looked at the time he  realized students would be coming in soon, so he stood up with her to avoid getting bombarded. The numbness and ache of his ass bones gave him an outlook on how long they were sitting there; pretty long. He took note of the kids who also started to accompany the hallway’s walls that he was too preoccupied to notice beforehand. Peter turned to Michelle, not exactly sure what to do.

 

“Nice hangin’ with you, Parker.” he nodded in response, not much time for him to say anything before she turned to walk away, likely to her locker. He watched her for a minute, letting his eyes rest on her contrast of darkness through the popping colors of their school, giving his vision a variation after staring at her lead on paper for so long. And then he turned and walked the other way. Even though his locker was on the other end.

  
  


\---

 

Peter never thought withdrawal of another human was possible. 

 

Especially when that  _ human _ could be contradicted as a part of the species of humans. 

 

_ Ca-clang. _

 

Peter grimaced as the screwdriver in his hand slipped underneath itself. He collected the several fallen screws from the floor, meeting the eyes of Mr. Stark as he came up, who was working at the table across from him.

 

“Getting’ enough sleep, kid?” Tony asked, his hands paused on the wires hes been connecting. Peter gave himself a little shake out of it and replaced the screws in their section. He avoided the eyes of his mentor. “Yeah, yeah.” Peter picked the screwdriver back up and continued his task. “Just miss my friends, that's all.”

 

“Go see them.” Peter heard the hint of Mr. Stark’s  _ obviously Peter,  _ voice. “You're not a prisoner. And they live, what, four blocks from here?” Peter saw him flick his hand from his peripheral. “Go mingle. Or whatever you millennials do.” Peter paused out of disbelief. 

 

“It’s  _ Thanksgiving. _ ”

 

“Well, if you miss them after an absence period shorter than a weekend, I believe you partaking in their family dinner is to be expected, nonetheless.” 

 

Peter sighed. “Nah, I just haven't seen much of them this week. With the weather and all.” And it was true; after that friday, the snow never stopped. The flurries became heavier with proceeding cautions of going outside throughout the weekend, earning them the days before thanksgiving ranging from early dismissals to delayed openings when it came to school. Which also meant cutting out a lot of classes, most of which included Ned and MJ. Aunt May banned the idea of anyone coming over after school incase of a snow-in, apologizing with the fact that she'd rather them be stuck with their own families for the giving holiday. The thought of Spider-Man was erased; Aunt May had hid his suits - yes, both of them, ‘ _ until further notice. _ ’ 

 

They were planning on staying in for the weekend, staying cozy with the company of movie marathons (that they had on tape or dvd, anyway. Cable, or any wifi, really, was a goner.) when Mr. Stark rang and invited the two to celebrate with the Avengers. Peter begged May to pack his suit or come up with a reason for him to not meet the others unmasked, where in which she agreed to. Well, kind of. 

 

It wasn't until the Parker duo came hours earlier than the told time that Peter was unpacking and found she had only packed his old, rather embarrassing sweat-pants suit. He freaked out for about an hour, trying to figure out how to make sure he would look believably sick by the dinner the following night when Tony knocked on his door to tell him the others couldn't make it because of the weather. He reassured him with the idea that they would be just as much occupied with improving some parts to Stark Industries’ newest car model coming out by christmas. Peter felt better with that.

 

“I'm sorry, but isn't that what...what's the word…” Peter looked up to see mr. stark sarcastically thinking. “Oh, thats right.  _ Phones _ are for?”

 

Peter scoffed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but not all of us have our own private phone service designed just for our multi-billion dollars’ private devices.” Tony only shrugged in response.

 

“Your loss.”

 

The guys worked on their parts awhile longer before decided it was time for a break of some sorts. Pepper, Tony’s fiancee that Peter was  _ very _ excited to meet, and Aunt May were conversing on the sofas sporting glasses filled with red wine. They both looked to the doorway as their boys walked in.

 

“Oh, hello Peter! Your aunt was just telling me about you.” Peter exchanged a look with may as he sat on a side couch. “She said you go to a school of science?”

 

Peter clasped his hands and straightened his back, although his elbows remained rested on his knees. “Uh, yes. And technology, too. You can choose what to major in.”

 

“Major?” Pepper turned to Tony. “You said we have a high school student on our hands.”

 

Peter, however perked up quickly, ignoring that her question was directed to another. “No, no I am. It just with my school, when you apply you also apply for what you want to focus extra on. They accept you based on your knowledge on that subject, too.” Pepper nodded her head in understanding, but her brows told Peter to expand. “So there’s choices of chemistry, science logics, computer sciences, healthcare, space science, law and public safety, and some more I can't really remember…” he paused a minute to see if he could, but shook himself out of it. “When you apply to get in, you pick what you want to focus on for your future career. If you are accepted, you have an eighty minute class everyday that focuses on the subject you picked. We call it academies.” 

 

“And which academy are you in?” 

 

“I’m in for chemistry.”

 

During his explanation her eyebrows creeped up, something Peter only noticed when he finished. He followed her gaze to tony, who sat on the couch opposite of him. A corner of his lip was peaked, and Peter could only imagine peppers eyes said something good by the way tony looked at him. He didn't even need to look at may to know she was smiling, no doubt remembering the night he applied. 

 

It was the second to last night before applications were due and weeks after he told her he lost interest in going. She told him to apply anyway, just for the fun of it, but his procrastination sent him to avoiding it. It was two weeks later when he took the  test. Two weeks later he was called in for the interview and demonstration, and three after that he got his acceptance email. Following was two months of disagreeing with aunt may about going or not, but he finally gave in when Ned, a kid he saved a booklet of self written codes for at the shadowing, asked him his schedule. 

 

Peter met the eyes of his aunt and smiled at the memory.

 

\----

 

Dinner was  _ really _ good.

 

And he didn’t just think that because most of his dinners were mediocre-at-best meals that May tested most nights. The feast was better than the restaurants they would go to when she messed the recipe up bad enough. Even that one buffet they went to for his fifteenth birthday.

 

The conversations, not so much. The majority of them were conformations of stories may told pepper without tony or Peter in the room, only this time told in Peters perspectives. And then tony would ask pepper about the storage reports at the new facility. Tony would tell Peter something about the training, which would bring up a childhood story may had told pepper earlier. In other words, the cycle repeated.

 

Although his clipped answers to questions led Peter to longer breaks of thinking. It was nice being there, but some conversations led to ideas getting trapped in his head, and once that happened Peter did not like any further converse. 

 

Which was exactly what happened ever since he explained his school’s education layout. thinking of his application ordeal led him straight to what MJ said back on friday morning. The fact that her parents would only pay for her college funds if it wasn’t artschool fumed Peter. It also led to further questions. For example; did she even want to go to MTHS? Was it the same as his process, but instead of not wanting to go, did she even have a choice of what she applied for? The thought almost made Peter sick, no matter how good the meal. Sure, Michelle was great at debating and seems to have no problem in the Law and Public Safety academy,  but did she want to go there in the first place?

 

He continued with moving the food around his plate, but swept some in his mouth before the adults noticed.

 

“Oh! How silly of me. We forgot to say grace.” Tony obnoxiously groaned from the head of the table. 

 

“God, Pepper. Do you have to? I do not recall one time we have said grace in the past decade.” she sighed in response, rolling her eyes.

 

“Fine. How about you start out with what you’re thankful for this year, then?” after receiving a glare, she raised her eyebrows in expectancy.

 

“ _ Fine,”  _ he mocked. Peter took this second to look up for his nearly finished plate shyly. “I’m thankful for this kid having yet to over the edge of stupidity to get killed in the last six months. Next.” Peter heard the soft gasp at the bland mention of his mortality from May. 

 

“Well,” May spoke up. “I am glad this year worked out in opportunities for us after all.” Peter smiled at that, mainly because of the truth behind it. Although it was months after his uncle's death by the time Mr. Stark came around, their little family had just about given up hope of things getting better in every way. It was the only thing that brought him to the streets of queens with his powers, too. The chance to stop the lives of others turn into the flavorless event of life his was? Why not. 

 

Pepper caught the same smile Peter did. “And I'm  very thankful for our newest member of the team.”

 

“Actually, he turned that offer down.” Pepper sent Tony another glare, whereas he returned the no brainer look he usually sported anyway.

 

“What about you Peter?”

 

He glanced around the table before looking at his food again, approving his mind of the thought he conjured. 

 

“For letting a fifteen year old make his own choices.”

  
  


\----

 

The food was disgusting.

 

Well, for her family’s standards at least. Michelle’s father was a chef, so she in no way believed the dryness of the turkey or the bitterness of the stuffing was exceptional. The conversations had no part to making up for it, either. Although both her parents’ sides had a great way of hiding how negatively their feast tasted, their conversations showed how much more open they could be when it comes to beliefs. The comparison of how tasteless each of them were not far to be frank.

 

And so of course she sat on the crease of the tables where the kids’ and adults’ sides met. Beyond the cranberry sauce (the only store bought thing on the table, therefore the only edible) was her cousin Nick who decided their year apart in age qualified him to be wiser in every sense of the word. Next to him was her sister, Destiny, and across from Destiny was Nick’s step-sister, Claudia. She was in eighth grade and from what she had seen so far, worshipped any high school student.

 

Although she would doubtfully praise to Michelle if she had worn what she wanted. Thanksgiving in MJ’s mind called for a sweater with her oversized denim jacket, maybe some tighter jeans than her comfortable school pairs. But unfortunately her mother only paid attention when it came to family appearances and laid out an olive, long sleeve dress (and a lock on her closet door handles). She put on more and more chores until her daughter’s hair was in the way she wanted it, including the magenta streak pinned under. 

 

MJ’s tongue tingled from how much she bit it, listening to the  adult conversations. Debatable topics. Controversial. But her father reassured and her mother threatened for her to have  _ no _ partaking in any of it. Cue the montage of her weekly flyers around the house and the disappearing bacon packages. Of course, they were able to notice  _ that _ , but not when her alarm didn’t go off in time. But it was  _ torture _ . Politics, environmental studies, hell _ , _ she had  _ statistics _ .

 

She was doing good. She promised. But she couldn't feel the tip of her tongue and her breaths became lumpy and  _ God,  _ how many makeup tips does a thirteen-year-old need to ask?

 

“So, I take it having mixed kids is doing you both better than we said?” her grandmother brought up;  and that was the last of the strings. The last of her nerves jumping off, the numbness of her tongue's tip a mere inconvenience after a dentist appointment, the heels of her Doc Martens being given weight as she challenged herself to stand.

 

“Wanna hear my opinion?” the weight settled to the balls of her feet as she simply looked down the table. She caught her mother’s eye in her peripheral, where her glass of wine paused at her lips. MJ ignored the tense in her mother's brow and relaxed her elbows on the surface in front of her. “White people are actually pretty grand. Sure, there's shitty racist ones in my  _ preferred _ high school.” someone coughs or choked along the right side of the table. “But from what I've learned, it's not the millennials that are found to be over concerned in topics of a regular situation, persay, a family with a couple different skin colors, but rather the ones who should be the most supportive of this so called  _ dire _ reputation.” some soft gasps floated in the air. She watched her mother's wine glass be returned to the table, her pale skin going red at her daughter's outburst.  Next to her, it seemed like Claudia ran out of questions. Nick found it amusing, while Destiny found something more interesting on her plate.

 

MJ scanned the table, registering what mistake shed caused, and parted her lips. Her elbows pushed off so she could lean back in her seat. She too, found something interesting on her dish. The silence became too loud, so much so that the football game in the next room had droned out, and she needed something to get out of the monotone noise.

 

“Excuse me, I need to feed the dog.” Eyes followed her out, mostly because minutes before dinner she was caught pushing her cousins’ lab off her feet. But she wasn't going to feed the dog. It was under the table anyway, probably planning her murder.

 

She went into the closet. The bathroom was too ordinary and someone would have to use it eventually, thus the awkward exchange and their probable guilt by kicking her out of her sanctuary. Her mother locked her bedroom from the outside and hid the key. She hadn’t done it often enough for Michelle to piece together where, though.

 

There was only one notification on her phone, and that was from Liz, sending everyone a Happy Thanksgiving over their Decathlon snapchat group. It was from fifteen minutes before and not one person opened it yet. Besides Ned. But he was in the Philippines and she wasn’t paying for the long distance call for a self-initiated, forced conversation.

 

She called Liz. She didn't answer, figures. Probably was able to visit her dad and Michelle doubted a confined jail approved of cell phones in proximity of anyone.

 

So she called Betty. There was enough music in the background that putting the call on speaker would initiate a secondhand rave. MJ hung up.

 

And then she called everyone. Her contact list was pretty much the Decathlon team and a few lap partners, but it still counted when no one answered. Hell, she even called  _ Flash _ . Once he greeted her with his ‘Favorite Future First Woman President’, she hung up. Stupid Flash. 

 

She turned her phone off and let it fall in her lap, a twin action with her head as it dropped to the wall behind her. At this point she would have to just think of a way to get out of this one. There were no muffled conversations through the door, something that she was used to from when she was smaller. Dinner parties were well known in her house and the vent by her bed did not do well for her bedroom to be a good reading space. Sometimes she’d listen, just to hear the different characters her parents played. Of course the only one she’d really met was never that different; in fact, the different tones carried through the vents were as much as the  _ only  _ side. But it was nice to imagine. And discover something about your life that any other family would talk about during a road trip.

 

Her mother’s fake chuckle ran through MJ then, the following ones rattling her bones. God,  _ anything _ else, even Flash’s know-it-all statement would cleanse her mind at this point -

 

MJ’s eyes squinted on instinct as a blue light exploded into the darkness of the closet. She looked at her phone for the notification,half expecting her disownment contract already being forwarded to her email -

 

_ Incoming Call: Peter  _

 

God _ damn _ this kid.

 

She let it ring twice, mostly to relax a probable sense of urgency Peter had bundled into his nerves already. Calling on holidays is not that common. Unless you're in extreme danger. But MJ counted herself as a smart person, so this was the worst it would get.

 

“Michelle?” his voice was strange; like he was keeping it low. “Are you okay?”

 

“Hey, Pete.” his breath through the speaker was hard to interpret.

 

“What happened? W - why are you calling?”

 

“Hows your weekend been?”

 

“Listen, MJ, I’d love to catch up, but I'm  currently hiding behind a staircase in -” there was a pause. “- Yea Mr. Stark! We’re good! Just a - telemarketer! No… bad guys.”

 

“Ah, looks like you're eating well tonight.” she scraped her tongue across her teeth to get rid of the sweet potatoes’ aftertaste still on her tastebuds.

 

“Yea, uhm, they're going to be suspicious now… Mr. Stark blocked all telemarketers from my number - so wait, you're good, right? I don't think I've asked you -”

 

“Yea, Peter. I'm  fine. Sorry to bother you. Just - bored.”

 

“Oh. okay. Good, that's good. Okay. I need to go. Sorry. But you’re good? Good. You’re good. Um, okay. Bye.”

 

“Bye -” she was met with the hum of the dial. MJ closed out of her phone app to see her battery was at 17 percent; exiting this closet would be a necessity soon.

 

She dropped her head back with a huff. 

 

It wasn't long before her name echoed outside the door. Awkwardly, MJ started staying up around the boxes and jackets that flooded their closet, her hideaway. It would be more civil for her to just appear rather than her secret spot to be revealed.

 

She squinted slightly as the door creaked open, the soft faux candlelight still overpowering the closets darkness. Surely, MJ turned the corner to only be met with her mother.

 

MJ was always told she had her mom’s eyes. At least during these family gatherings they had. No matter how many times these aunts saw her (about four times a year to be exact), their first words before embracing her was always along the lines of how similar their eyes were. She personally didn't see it. Maybe it was because when ever she was close enough to  _ actually _ compare, her mother's shape were wide with anger and hers were drooping with ill intention to impress.

 

\----

 

After the silently promised lecture her mother had given her, MJ was sent back to the table with instruction to not talk. She kept her mouth closed, not bothering to continue eating, mindful of the looseness of her tongue if it were to open. She felt burned with all the eyes she felt on her; especially the ones trying to be discrete about it.

 

Michelles heels bounced. The conversations seemed taunting. Borderline on the recent politics, but only getting close enough to diving into it to be at the same level of the discrete looks coming her way. All of which no doubt a test from her mother.

 

\----

 

Peter felt very, very guilty. A friend calling on a holiday was always a red flag, and the fact that it was  _ MJ  _ counted as two of them. 

 

But even with their thirty second conversation, things seemed off about the dinner after. It was like something was suddenly empty in the room when Peter turned from behind the staircase. But there was ample food in all of the bowls, the servers were all in their appropriate spots, and after Peter sat down every seat was full. But still, it felt empty. And hot. And glances burned through his skull as he returned to his food-picking around his plate.

 

Despite that, no one mentioned anything. The quick reassurance he gave seemed like enough to convince everyone all was well.

 

For everyone, Peter knew it wasn't.

 

He thought about calling MJ later that night, in his respective guest room Mr. Stark assigned him for some weekends. Under his expensive comforters, atop his expensive pillows, staring at his expensive phone, on the simple contact name of  _ MJ _ .

 

But he tucked the phone underneath his head after contemplating for too long for a teenage boy. 

 

Again, he felt guilty. It must've showed in his gait on their Monday back, walking through the hallway, because ned asked him if he was feeling okay. 

 

Peter snapped out of his trace of the crowd and answered, “Yeah, messed up my sleeping schedule over the weekend.”

 

And then he started to feel better.

 

Because then he saw Michelle at her usual spot outside her locker, leaning against rather than getting stuff from it like the kids around her. She had both hands clutching the strap of her bag that hung across her shoulders like usual. But she was staring out into the crowd of students, which was not usual.

 

From where he was, he couldn't make out anything that was  _ different, _ though. She looked unmarked. Nothing it her stance said a part of her covered by her usual get-up was harmed. This earned a relieved breath from Peter.

 

But after a while, it annoyed him. Not, her, but what  _ wasn't _ . In class, when he looked across from him, it gave him the same feeling that happens when ned would rearrange his action figures. Something _ was  _ off, but everything looked the same.

 

Peter stayed quiet about it, nonetheless. Maybe she got a new haircut, but didn't want to tell him because she didn't like it. Although he was thinking of Michelle, the girl with no craps given, he shoved the thought into the possibilities.

 

As Peter got annoyed, ned got suspicious. It didn’t occur to him that he probably seemed as offbeat to others as she was to him. Peter was given his fourth tap on the way to lunch, and he gave his third excuse.

 

Sooner than later he and ned were able to get their lunches earlier, props to the kids whose families decided to steal a vacation. The lunch room did feel empty when they sat down. But, again, something felt  _ off. _ More than empty seats around them.

 

Exactly like the empty seat in front of them.

 

There was no sarcastic comments, no debatable statements, no complaints about stupidly debatable topics. There was no MJ.

 

That wasn't a big deal, though. They got to their table earlier than usual. Nothing was wrong with her not there yet.

 

But then MJ came. And she didn't sit across from Peter.

 

_ Shit _ . 

 

He  _ really _ fucked up. Big time. 

 

Ned glanced over, too, and his conversation of his Star Trek marathon and new theories he had came up with over their break went on pause. He turned to Peter questionable.

 

Peter stopped breathing and stared at his “Thanksgiving Leftovers” assortment of turkey, stuffing, and corn given by the school lunch line. He pressed his lips together in uncomfort. 

 

“So, um, yeah - I was thinking that because of the…” as uncomfortable as Peter, Ned desperately tried to make the situation better. Peter didn't tell him about her call. Therefore, his confusion was just that. Peters was full of any remorseful adjective anyone could think of. 

 

Keeping his head down, Peter looked through his eyelashes at the other end of the table. Today, Michelle actually blended with the crowd. A coffee in hand(although most would decide to use a travel cup rather than open mug), sweats, hair done with only half effort. The days after break were never really given dedication.

 

Again, his eyes swept her face. After his months in the fields, if he was allowed to call the streets that, Peter had became pretty familiar with differentiating between people hiding pain or weapons. She wasn't hiding either. Or she was just  _ really _ good at it, which frankly, he wouldn't doubt. 

 

But her eyes were glazed as she stared in front of her, elbows resting on the table and hands both wrapped around the mug at her lips. As she tilted it to take a sip, something crashed into him, hard enough he would have jerked forward. But, because it was only imaginary, because the thing that bumped into him was only a memory, all that reacted was his skin that got very, very hot.

 

Peter's eyes fell to the table in front of her. Between her elbows, well, it was bare. He brought his eyes to the top of her books. The pile seemed smaller, monotone when it came to the thickness of each book. 

 

_ She would turn to the side, only enough for anything that dripped would miss, eyes stilled casted on the pages in front of her - _

 

_ Books.  _

 

Where the  _ hell _ are Michelles books?

 

Sure, there must be times where she had forgotten them, but… in the year and a couple of months since they started attending this high school, there wasn't one day that she went without one. If she  _ had  _ ever forgotten one, he knew of the small library she had spared in her locker.  _ It didn't make sense. _

 

Also the changes it made were  _ extreme _ . He didn't understand it.

 

Much rather, the reason of her not having a book was almost as scary as thinking she was hurt.

 

But he took a deep breath. He listened to ned’s now jumbled words, and tore his eyes away from MJ’s fumbling fingers that didn't know where to go. And he apologized. In his head, at least.

 

\----

 

She followed them home from school.

 

He was going to tell Ned to go home, that he had a lot of homework or something. Peter really wanted to think anything and everything out, get to the bottom of what exactly MJ being mad at him would entail and the apology that would redeem him of it.

 

But he got  _ her _ coming over instead.

 

At least it told him one thing; that it wasn’t as bad as her not being able to stand his presence. But it also told him another, that she would rather go over to his apartment for the evening than go back to her  _ house _ with the book she had forgotten. Peter became as worried before.

 

There was a chill in the air so they stayed inside, Aunt May claiming she had some errands to run to give them privacy. Peter took out his laptop and opened the documents that consisted of the recent bad guy they’d been tracking.

 

“It doesn't make sense. Every time we try to attack, he knows I'm  there. Behind him, to side, underneath…” Peter shook his head as he read their notes on the screen. “Nothings ever a surprise.”

 

Ned makes his usual  _ that's too bad _ face that never really helps, but his label as Guy in the Chair is enough to keep him happy. It's not like his recommendations had been much of a help in the past; every attack plan he's brought up always had something along the lines of Mr. Stark making Peter some sort of sci-fi fantasy weapon that's been in the movies. 

 

“Try up.” Peter looked to MJ who was pressed into the corner of his couch. Like at lunch, both hands held a mug, but this time it was full of tea from his kitchen. May sometimes drank it, but the household rarely strayed from coffee. But ever since their little team started, the tea packets started wearing thin, only for MAy to find Michelle using them. She bought more, experimenting with different flavors and companies ever since. 

 

It was the first thing he’s heard her say all day. Any other, he would ask her a question she would never be able to answer without talking, but that day he stayed clear for obvious causes.

 

“Up?” Ned asked. She shrugged. “Even from the security footage, we can see this dudes hearing is different than an average person.his ears are farther from his face, too. But he always wears a hat. He can’t look up.” 

 

With an impressed mod from both of them, Peter wished he could figure things out as easily as MJ.

 

\----

 

The next day, Peter classified his previous worries as just suspicions. Now, he was worried.

 

Although she seemed default as she walked, MJs face looked different that day. Her eyes didn’t have the tire in them. Only people who looked closely would notice, because she kept them looking tired no matter what the occasion, but that day it was clear she was faking it.

 

And no book. Again.

 

He made sure to take the earlier bus. She would be on it and they would be able to fix whatever he messed up.

 

She wasn’t there. 

 

Nor was she at the school when he got there, unless every time he entered another hallway in search for her she would exit. He felt uncomfortable when he got his bagel from the cafeteria. The lady seemed more impatient than usual.

 

Peter didn’t know why she wasn’t there, but more people than that one morning was. He felt bad she didn’t get the sketching opportunity.

 

The sudden change scared him. MJ not being MJ scared him.

 

\----

 

“KAREN, can you remind me to thank Mister Stark again for the heater in my suit later?”

 

“I can remind you later, Peter, or I can send him a message now if you would like.”

“No, no. that’s okay. Just remind me.” Peter swung below another tree. Taken from his experience from the last time in the suburbs, he decided staying in the woods parts would be the best option. Even though he had no idea where exactly he was supposed to know. An address didn’t mean much when you weren’t sticking to the streets.

 

Oh, right. He was going to MJs house.

 

To check up on her.

 

Hed gotten the address from Aunt May’s phone book. Hed gotten the idea after taking down that man by attacking from above, like MJ told him to do. 

 

And so he left a note behind telling Aunt May that he wasn’t going to fight bad guys, but to give ned an update on their history project because his apartment’s wifi was down. Which, in a way, was true. With MJ being part of their group, this little check up may distinguish how well their grade would turn out to be.

 

The air was frigid. December was days away. New York wasn’t one to stay warm, especially once he fled the city part to the suburbs. But his suit’s heater was one for the gods, and the most of his worries became when the trees would end.

 

But thankfully, KAREN had picked up his intentioned destination and told him he arrived well before that happened. Peter landed on the flat roof, just barely tilted, as quietly as could. A pair of windows peaked from one raised part; inside was the only room in the house that was lit. 

 

He remembered the one time she had said she was always the last to go to sleep. ( _ how about  _ those _ observatory skills, MJ?)  _ He knocked on it and winced, sitting back and looking at the stars above him. They looked different than they did from the city.

 

_ Bad idea. Bad idea. Very bad idea - _

 

He sensed something in the glass and looked to it. On the other side was MJ; her eyebrows furrowed in perhaps confusion, but otherwise she looked as she always did. 

 

He sat back up as she partially struggled to open the window. Once the bottom was separated from the pane enough for fingers to slide through, he tucked his under. She followed. Her fingers brushed against his - and he felt warmer than what his suit heater had been providing. But they left just as quickly as they came. 

 

“Hey,” Peter greeted sheepishly, once it was fully opened. He cursed at the slight crack in his voice. MJ dropped her hands to rest on the sill. She looked at him for a second.

 

“Why are you here, Peter. Its freezing out.” He then took note of her thin long-sleeved shirt she had on. 

 

“Let me in?” he took off his mask, hair falling into his eyes. The air nipped at his cheek, but MJ stepped aside. He climbed in her window. Into her room.

 

Bad bad  _ bad  _ idea.

 

As soon as he was on two feet, Peter straightened and looked around. He could hear her closing the window behind him. But his feet were planted on the ground and he  _ couldn't move _ .

 

Peter had only imagined MJ’s place a couple of times. He didn't have much reason to. But sometimes, when he'd notice her carrying around six different books in a week, hed wonder. How many books she had, or perhaps they were all borrowed from the library's. Or maybe how she stored them. Were they stacked in boxes, or put on shelves of bookcases?did she go for style or storage when it came to it?

 

His answer was underwhelming.

 

He scanned across three high, five-shelf cases. Not one of them had a single book on them, though. He scanned the floor for boxes - maybe she was redesigning? But none were found. Her bed’s comforter was ruffled with nothing but a sketch pad on it.

 

“Are you going to tell me why you are in my house at two am on a thursday night?” he turned to find her leaning against her window, arms crossed.

 

“I...i wanted to - see if you were okay. Or being held by hostages or something.”

 

“Pretty sure those reasons classify as the same category.” MJ pushed off the window and walked around Peter. He followed her with his eyes. She went over to her bed and stretched to get her sketches and closed the pad. “You have no idea how uncomfortable I'm  becoming with you in nothing but a spandex staying in the middle of my room.”

 

“For the last time, this is  _ not _ a spandex. Do you even know a third of its capabilities?”

 

She sat down on her bed, but Peter remained where he was. 

 

“Well now I know it at least has some sort of heaty thing. Or your spider senses are way more resilient to cold than I initially thought.”

 

“I'm sorry I didn't talk to you on Thanksgiving. When you called.” her eyebrows raised. 

 

“ _ That's _ what you decided to come here for? Can you ask for unnecessary forgiveness in the morning?

 

“What do you mean by unnecessary?”

 

“Do you really think I'm  mad that you couldn't talk during a  _ holiday _ ? God Peter, I know you're soft, but I never thought anything would go  _ this _ far -”

 

“I though apologizing at school would be weird.”

 

“And coming through my window isn't.”

 

“You've been  _ distant. _ ”

 

“Distant,” she replied sarcastically.

 

“Yeah, yanno,” he gestured a hand. “not sitting with us and… stuff.”

 

“Whats stuff.”

 

“Where are your books?” he realized that she was staring somewhere other than his eyes as they snapped to his. MJ looked over her shoulder at the bare shelves and turned back, eyes cast down.

 

“Why do you need to know?” her voice had less of an edge of  _ MJ _ than before.

 

“Because it's the reason that I thought I messed this up for the past  _ week _ , MJ.”

 

Her eyes looked up. Her head did not follow.

 

“Messed this up, huh?” he pursed his lips and leaned on her dresser behind him. A hand rubbed his face. “What would  _ this _ be, then?”

 

Frankly, Peter had absolutely, positively no  _ fucking _ idea what  _ this _ was. Friendship? Weird acquaintance? Person you stare at miserable people with?

Person you  _ worry _ for no damn  _ reason  _ about?

 

“I don't know,” he admitted. She rubbed her arms, brown eyes darting around her floor and walls. “I guess -”

 

“I consider you as a friend.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“That's why you call me MJ.”

 

“Yeah, I know -”

 

“That why I  _ told  _ you to call me MJ.”

 

He didn't try to talk this time. Surely she'd been throwing back another fact that he should have seen earlier.

 

But he was met by silence.

 

Around him, in his ears. He wanted to say something to break it, but his brain was quiet as well. Michelle stood up. He slightly flinched.

 

“My,” MJ took a breath. He noticed her hands tightening on her arms. “My mom took them.” he was confused at this, but ignored it.

 

“You don't talk about her often.”

 

“Because I don’t know much about her. Other than how she likes dinner parties and her show voice is probably the reason for constant replacement of  glass cup sets.”

 

Meanwhile, her mother wasn't going to let her choose her future. From what Peter understood, how would she even know half of what her daughter wants.

 

“And so she took -”

 

“All of my books, yeah. Apparently a teenager speaking their mind is illegal in this house.”

 

Slowly, her puzzle started to piece. He although still didn't understand how if her mom didn't bother about her, she would care so much about what she would say, or want to do after high school. Looking at the Jones family’s house, he was sure college wasn't going to be a financial problem. MJ’s room itself was nearly two thirds of his and May’s entire apartment. It actually made him question why she rathered coming over, regardless of what kind of relationship she had with her mom.

 

Michelle seemed to read his confusion.

 

“She cares just enough for her reputation.and somehow leaving me with nothing but finished homework and a sketchbook from sixth grade is the only way to tell me I messed it up. Even when it comes to conversation topics at thanksgiving dinner.” 

 

Peter slowly nodded in understandment. He walked passed her to go alongside the bare shelves. Dust rimmed and stripped the surfaces where her books once were.

 

“And so she just… took them all?”

 

“I’m a heavy sleeper.” he turned to her. Michelle set both her arms behind her as she sat on the edge of her bed, looking back. A few inches from her was a pencil.

 

“I thought you were mad at me.”

 

“As you've told me already.”

 

“Are you sure you aren't?” she just nodded simply in response. He looked back at the shelves, brows furrowed in contemplation. “What about the library?” he heard her stifle a laugh.

 

“I wouldn't doubt that was the first place she called.” when Peter glanced, giving her a questioning look, she expanded. “This happened when I was in seventh grade, too. She freezes my card and lets them know that I am not to step foot in the building.” he was too surprised at the lengths Michelle’s parents would go. After some silence, Peter wiping off the dust from his suits finger, he glanced at her. It was in the moment she started to yawn. Suddenly, he realized his place.

 

Michelle was right. It was not just wierd -  _ completely  _ weird to be jumping into a window at 2 am. A girl’s window.  _ Michelles  _ window. Fire suddenly jumped into his feet and Peter scrambled.

 

“Wow, I - I'm   sorry. This is wierd. I shouldn't have came right now, wow. Its two am, sorry. Yeah.” if she wasn't mad at him yet, she probably was now. Despite the smirk he found and he messily put his mask back on. Peter opened the window, much less difficulty issuing than the previous time. He shot a web onto the closest tree. 

 

“Peter.” once more Peter looked over his shoulder at MJ, still on the bed looking amused. He was glad for his mask; the expression underneath was anything but heroic. “Next time, f-y-i, you would know if I was mad at you.” she picked up her sketch pad from behind her, but he held his gaze for two more heartbeats. 

 

And then he followed the web; behind him, her window closed.

 

\----

 

He really loved to surprise himself. 

 

The next day at school, the vibe was different now that he knew the deal. He suddenly saw the tension in her eyes not being directed to something certain; it was general. He simply told ned it was family issues and to not worry about it; everything would dull sooner or later. Even if she hadn't exactly told Peter  _ when _ this reprimanding thing was to finish.

 

But Peter couldn't help but feel bad, nevertheless. Not about the call on thanksgiving; the situation she was put in afterwards. He of course did not know the story word to word, but her mother taking away what made Michelle Michelle left remorse, it left annoyance.

 

And he couldn't help it. Peter liked to to call himself an ambitious person. Aunt may may word it differently, perhaps impatience, but putting all definitions aside he found himself on the same roof that night as he did the previous.

 

His legs were a bit wobbly. Of course, Peter was shaken the night before, thinking about going into MJ’s room just for either forgiveness or a slap across the face. And, to be frank, he knew despite his healing powers that slap would hurt in more ways than one.

 

But this time, she'd forgiven him. This time they were back to being the same friends that hunted down super villains of Queens. 

 

This time, MJ was asleep.

 

He knew she didn't have her phone; the calls and texts that were left unanswered the few days after her call said enough. So the darkness of her window said one thing; that Peter was most likely the one teenager that was standing on a roof at 3:30 am.

 

It was creepy, he knew that. Much creepier than the night before. Especially because he was going to  _ go in an unconscious girl’s room.  _ Through her window that his robot friend informed was unlocked. Inconspicuously. 

 

And so he did; opening the glass pane with ease and slipping inside. Peter debated on wearing a regular outfit, but decided on his suit in case for the potential awakening of Michelle. 

 

He knew he looked awkward, suspicious, if someone was watching him walk to her desk. Papers were scattered across from it; he searched for what he was there for, and did not find it, the one thing she always was talking about. Step one of the mission was already failing. 

 

He searched his eyes around her room. Besides her desk, it was neat, all for the opened cardboard boxes next to her book shelves. Peter whispered to KAREN to turn his night vision on hoping it may help. And as he peeled his sight to above her bed, it did. 

 

A foot or so above her headboard was a bulletin. And he was quite angry he didn't notice it the night before, because was he was looking for what in a big font on the rims of the board;  _ To Be Read. _

 

Attached were small slips of paper, each pinned. And on each was a title. Walking closer, he realized it was  _ only _ the title. Shit, step four just became significantly harder.

 

Despite the thought Peter licked his lips and continued over to the side of her bed. God, it was creepy. Creepy, creep, creeper. 

 

Attentively, he reached up, plucking off a pushpin. The slip of paper came with it.

 

He did it again, again, and again and  _ shit _ -

 

Peter watched, too stunned to do anything, as the slip fluttered down, landing delicately on MJ’s exposed cheek. Her faces muscles twitched and she shifted, the parchment slipped across her nose , between the space where her arm bended to tuck under her head. 

 

_ Shit, shit and  _ shit.

 

When MJ didn't move otherwise, Peter let out a long, silent breath he was unaware he was holding. He felt light headed.

 

Yet he crept alongside her bed to the other side where she faced, the note just under her eyes. If she were to flutter her eyelashes, they would brush against it.

 

But she didn't. MJ’s eyes kept closed, her breathing kept even as Peter had to reach over, tweezing the slip from under her. His knuckle brushed across her cheekbone, and maybe her lips, but he stilled too fast to comprehend anything other than her waking up or how incredibly smooth her skin was. If this wasn't creepy enough, Michelle waking up to Peter caressing her cheek at three in the morning uninvited would never be the end.

 

When she didn't stir Peter pulled his hand back quickly now, adding it to the other titles and securing them.

 

And like last time,  he glanced back before leaving through the window without her looking back. At her face, more relaxed than he'd seen it besides certain times. None of her smartass natures; but as he closed the window, he decided he liked both expressions the same.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the best cliff hanger ill ever be able to do^^
> 
> as i said above, sorry for my absence; the end of my summer turned out to be busier than i realized. but this is out now, and i hope ill be able to consecutively complete this series from here on out.
> 
> i LOVE writing this. its the easiest work ive ever done- not that i dont try, though. its because, like peter and mj, im currently a sophomore in high school, meaning i dont really need to think older than myself!! ugh, i get so excited thinking about it. these thoughts, especially MJ's, are as close to accurate you may get haha. i do qualify myself to being very close to MJ's character to be completely honest!
> 
> anyway, done w the selfish boasting. if you are wondering the whole deal i made with MTHS, its, again, explained from experience. i go to a technological high school like our characters(although im no where near as smart, haha. i major in dance). so basically, the way i explained it was the way my high school works. peter's application story was close to mine as well despite a few alternations to fit May and his relationship.
> 
> as you guys may of noticed i changed the number of parts to four. im diving deep into the development of their relationship leading up to Infinity war, so thats the main reason. the third part of this series will be the aftermath; the prologue to it is it the previous chapter. 
> 
> one more thing; ive realized my writing style consists of precise descriptions, not letting much room open for you as readers to imagine. please let me know if something more free would be something you would prefer; i promise i wont get offended!
> 
> k. sorry for this long note, i swear i try to make them short. anyways, i hope you all enjoyed the fluff of this chapter!! 
> 
> [reveiws and kudos very much appreciated]

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for sticking around for this second book! I'm pretty happy with how this first chapter came out and can't wait to write more. please make sure to leave kudos and comments to know you're in the same boat!
> 
> starting Tuesday of this week, I'm starting to become a little more busy for the rest of the summer, so updates may slow down. I will make sure to write as much as possible, though, because this is not a chore in any means. dammit, my sleeping schedule is writing until 5 AM, sleeping until 12 PM, and writing again!
> 
> well, anyways. again, I hope you all are liking this series. these characters are so easy and fun to write and I just want to fill in these next two years with endless stories about them.
> 
> SEND ME PROMPTS @ THESAVIORJONES ON TUMBLR!!


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